Guard Duty
by SumaniDavings
Summary: No one expected both Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived to die at the battle of Hogwarts. No one expected the ministry to be the one to restore order. Some just couldn't let go. Most of them weren't as dangerous as you. That's why they called me to take you in. And why I'm stuck here guarding you. Femslash, OOC-ish
1. Broken

**Guard Duty**

I sit at the kitchen table and stare at the door that leads to your room. Well, I call it your room, but it would be more precise to say: your cell. Because you are my prisoner and I am your warden.

It is quite peculiar how the world works, really. And a bit strange to say the least. You are a prisoner of war and I am supposed to keep you alive, even when I'm not entirely sure that's what you wish as well. Sometimes you dare me to kill you, and time and time again I am surprised by the colorful expressions you find to get me to loose my temper. But I will not kill you, for better or worse.

It just had to be me. I believe they gave the job to me because they were afraid I would find work somewhere exposed and public otherwise. We are both equally hated, if by different people, and it makes me giggle sometimes. When I don't hear you scream madness at me through the walls and am reminded of why we are here.

Officially I got the job because I was the one to detain you. It had to be a punch in the face by fate to your friends and allies. No one could best you but me, and it was close enough if you ask me. Even with the help of St Mungos finest I kept scars as an eternal reminder of our last fight.

I lean back and think about how the war went so different than what anyone thought. It was clear that either Voldemort or the Order had to win, for there could be no coexistence between them. The ultimate victor came out of left field. The ministry, surprising enough. It really took all of us by surprise when the Department of Magical Law Enforcement finally got its act together.

The people were tired and had seen enough war for a few decades after the remnants of the Order and Voldemorts surviving troops fought it out in the countryside. So in the end neither Dark nor Light triumphed – and I still wonder just who coined those words – but the Neutrals who had enough of the deadly squabbling. At least after the Battle of Hogwarts the Muggles were out of the equation, so there was no breach of the statute of secrecy.

It most likely would have gone differently if Voldemort or the Boy Who Lived had survived. But they didn't. They both died at Hogwarts and their forces took heavy casualties. Things still could have gone better if Dumbledore hadn't been dead. He would have reigned the Order members in, worked together with the ministry and emerged stronger then ever from it. But he was dead. His do-not-kill philosophy followed soon after the Chosen One.

For years both groups went rogue, tried to kill each other to the last man, and in the end I suspect most of us had forgotten why we fought each other with such hatred. Then the ministry finally struck. They caught most of us and those who did not surrender were incarcerated, no matter the allegiance.

I took the first rational action in what seemed like forever and just... gave up. My late husband may never forgive me if I ever see him again, and _he_ will most likely neither, but then again it was the war that took everything I lived for. Instead of fighting for a cause so lost I forgot why it was important I decided to live again. I took the full pardon the ministry offered and stepped out. Seeing the look on their faces was almost worth it. You, of course, did nothing of the sort.

Maybe it is the act of killing and surviving countless battles that drove you so completely crazy. I don't know. I just know that you couldn't stop. Even when they found your last hideout and laid siege to it you didn't surrender. Instead you hid behind a duelist ward. Nasty things, your own invention, or so the story goes. Before the war was finally over it had spread to both factions and was used by the best duelists. Everyone else was hoping not to get caught in one.

I sometimes wander idly when you found the time to develop a ward so incomprehensible. It forces everyone who enters into a fair fight. One on one, skill versus skill. No overwhelming forces to take down the monster. It shows how far gone you were that you had no qualms of killing your former allies, because they abandoned the cause. I think when they called for me it was the first time I genuinely pitied you.

It shouldn't have been that way. I should have rejoiced in the chance to finally rid the world of you for good. But no, when I abandoned the war I seemed to have abandoned what made me _me_, in large parts as well. But I was still one of the two most skilled witches in contemporary Britain, and they called for me because they just couldn't handle you.

And I answered the call because part of the deal with the ministry was that we would take care of the remaining mess. It was a gentlemen's agreement that every faction would subdue the stragglers of their own side. It must have killed them to admit they were unable to get you to see reason. Or maybe they were hoping you would kill me after all.

I entered your cave and we fought. You fought with all the hatred that comes with seeing your nemesis, murderer of your husband and symbol of the other side. I should have hated you for the very same reasons. But I didn't. It wasn't the first time we fought, but everything before that day was just a build-up. And here I was on the day of the great showdown and simply didn't care anymore. Still, I wasn't going to let you kill me. We fought four hours without a break and it was a lucky shot that decided the outcome. Maybe not as legendary as the battle between Dumbledore and Grindlewald, but definitely longer.

They would have thrown you into Azkaban if they could. But you were the keystone of your army, a symbol for your people and the ministry made another bargain. If the last few guerillas came out of hiding and stopped warring, you would be allowed to stay out of prison. It was finally the real end of the war when it had been declared to be over seven months ago.

Your wand was taken and is still under lock and key in the ministry. I don't think you will ever see it again, not with the state your mind is in. It didn't take long to decide it would be me who was your warden. I seemed to be the only witch or wizard alive that could reign you in when not even people you should have considered friends could stop you.

And so they got rid of us both. Even in defeat you managed to take me down with you. It makes me smile. The irony of our situation is all the amusement I get regularly. I don't listen to the wireless. It makes me think of the war and a wasted live. And we get no visitors. No one comes out here, ever. Except Ginny, but she looks at me with as much contempt as she looks at you. I think she blames both of us for the death of her brother. A wife who dragged him out into battle for the chance to kill some blood purist fanatics and a witch that would become his murderer. A sad story, and all too common.

But she still comes by once a month like a clockwork. I catch myself becoming nervous and giddy when she is late. You of course don't even notice she is here most of the time. She just looks though the window of your door and then she goes again. Hardly ever does she utter a single word in greeting. There is another one who cannot forget the war but tries to maintain the illusion. Everything else would be bad for her ministry carrier, I guess.

The only other being here is a little house elf by the name of Anthy. She hardly ever talks to any of us, but she buys the groceries and she cooks our meals. Keeps the place clean, too. I think you scare her. She is only here to ensure I can keep you under surveillance all the time. To keep us both here in our extended house arrest.

I am bored out of my mind waiting for time to pass by. I have nothing to do but think and watch you, and lately it hurts to see you chained so you won't hurt yourself. I catch myself wishing you were free again, even if it meant I had to die because your hatred for me is as strong as when you first arrived here.

A crack outside announces Ginnys arrival. She knocks once and opens the door without waiting for anyone to let her in. After glancing at me she goes through the living room and looks inside your room through the small window in the door.

"She hasn't recovered at all, has she.", she asks dryly. I look at her, taken by surprise. As a rule Ginny never talks. Ever.

"No, I don't think she has.", I whisper, my voice hoarse because I seldom get a chance to use it anymore. I almost never have reason to use magic that requires me to talk.

"How the great have fallen.", she mumbles and I wonder if she talks about us or herself. Maybe both. Before I can get my act together and offer tea she leaves again. I see her disappear and sigh. Without human contact I'm likely to go crazy. Again, some would say. I enchanted a chess board to play against me, but it is so very stupid and predictable I get quickly frustrated by it. I wasn't into chess to begin with, but there is nothing that stops boredom for a while like trying to give an inanimate object conscience.

I sigh again and rise from my chair. It is time to do something incredibly stupid and hope there will not be too much repercussions.

"Anthy!"

"Yes, Mistress? What can Anthy for you?"

"No matter what happens in the next few hours, you are not to call anyone. Is that clear?"

"Yes Mistress.", the tiny creature says with big round eyes and fear in her voice, "Anthy will not tell anyone."

"Good. Maybe you should go shopping." I wave my wand and the chessboard goes up in flames. "I need another game of chess as well."

"Yes Mistress.", Anthy squeaks with a noticeable edge of panic, "Anthy will go shopping now."

Without a doubt she thinks I'm going to murder you. A smirk creeps onto my face. Nothing could be further from the truth. I store the wand in a safe location and enter your room. You sit there, at the wall, chained because you tried to claw your way out again yesterday. Your hands took the brunt of the damage, but the rest of your body screams of disregard too. It hurts to see you like this and that sentiment surprises me every time I have it.

"How are you darling?", I ask with a soft voice I never knew I had. At first it was a lame jibe against you. It grew more true with every passing week. I sit down besides you and unlock your chains. You take the chance and lunge at me. Normally your malnourishment works against you and I wrestle you against the wall while you scream at the top of your lungs how you will flay me alive one day. Well, darling, that day is today. You have finally whittled me down, broken my resolve to watch out for you, to be your warden for all eternity. I guess they thought it was a job made for me, being here and keeping you locked away from everyone, but then again everyone who really knew me is dead.

While my husband was alive he was the one to keep my urges satisfied. Or at least he tried. I think he was a bit scared of me before the end. It was there, in his eyes, even when I lay on the bed completely helpless. In the end it was always the anger that he could never have me completely that would cancel out his hesitation.

But you will take the chance I give you without hesitation. You won't need coaxing. I see in your eyes the will to destroy me every time I enter the room. It makes me anxious and restless.

You jerk me around and slam me into the wall, your eyes full of anger and promising violence. It is a stupid thing I do here. Normally it takes two consenting parties and an elaborate set of unspoken rules. And trust. Giving your worst enemy full reign over yourself is a nice fantasy but suicidal in reality. I guess I should be on suicide watch after all. Maybe the loneliness during the war and more so after its end got to me more than I thought.

You realize that something is different. You begin to hesitate, to assess the situation. I don't want you to be rational. I want you to hurt me. To make me pay for every single person I ever hurt. I give you the most arrogant smile I can muster and you are overtaken by hatred again. Another move on my part that is not entirely sane. I just don't care for sanity anymore.

You manage to surprise me by screaming "Crucio!" at me. Now here is something I didn't think was even possible. The curse is weak and underpowered but you actually managed to make me feel pain. Real pain. Not the unbearable pain the curse is meant to convey, it's not even on par to a strong slap, but a nice and sharp flavor of pain I immediately crave again after you run out of strength to maintain it. Just three seconds, but I am deeply impressed.

I thought you had all but given up, biding your time and waiting for a mistake like the one I am in the process of making. Yet here you are, casting an unforgivable without your wand. Is that what you do with your days? In that moment I know I am going to die. Anyone who has enough drive to bring himself to do that has to have enough hate in store to kill a dragon.

You notice that the spell didn't do much damage. I can see the rage rising even further in your eyes and you hit me. You really should have eaten better. Your punches are weak, but you make up for it with sheer determination and brutality. A whimper escapes my lips and you stop for a moment. I look at you and you can't understand what you see. You miss anger or fear or anything you have seen for the last years. I imagine the last time you ever saw my expression was the morning of the day your husband died by my hand. I can see you have forgotten what it means.

"Fight back!", you scream. Your face distorted by fury but still beautiful.

"I don't want to.", I whisper.

"I'm going to kill you!" I really hope Anthy isn't home yet. The two of us would scare the living lights out of her.

"That's what I thought. Do it. Murder me."

"You killed my friends!" you cry, and I am surprised by your tears. You never cry when I can see you. It's way to late for you to have a breakdown.

"As did you with mine.", I remind her tenderly.

"Well you started it!" Now you just sound like a child. I don't say it. It's not what you need, and for the first time since I met you I can see that you need _my_ help. Because I have been were you are now. Because I killed and felt guilt and I didn't want to. So I found a person to punish me for what I did and I forgot about the past and lived in the present, because that was the only way to be with my love. And my sanity was still questioned, even by my allies.

Then came Azkaban and I think I may really have gone over the edge there. The second war was too short, Voldemorts death came too sudden. It was unthinkable. If I was thinking at all. I should have seen that he was not whole anymore, not the same person I loved. I should have accepted that person died the night a little boy lived. But I couldn't. How Rodolphus stood it I will never know. But he followed me until the bitter end. Until you.

Now you cry and I almost despair. I need you strong and angry. But you slump against my chest, exhausted, and you ask "What am I going to do?" again and again.

I take your face between my hands and force you to look into my eyes.

"Hurt me.", I whisper to you.

Just as I want to be punished you want to blame someone for the way you have become. No more a sweet girl, but a skilled murderer, whatever your excuse might have been at the time. After everyone who died we may very well be the two most dangerous people left in Magical Britain. We are so different and yet so similar. I should be disgusted by the mere thought of you touching me but I find that I don't care about any of this anymore.

We are both unwanted in the rebuilding society. I have no more place to return to. I have lost what riches I possessed. We are both living on a stipend from the ministry because they don't want to see either of our faces in the streets ever again. Too much bad blood. Too much remaining influence, should any of us ever regain enough interest to do something with it.

Suddenly I realize that you haven't even once searched me for my wand. From the beginning you never really wanted to overpower me. You wanted me to fight back, to resist. So you would be able to tell yourself I was the enemy when you knew it wasn't true anymore and you couldn't see the difference between us any longer. And I discover that I was wrong about us. I do trust you not to kill me, however strange that is. It would leave you behind, a lonely monster with nothing but it's mirror image as company. So I push back, gently because you are weak yet forceful enough for you to see I mean it.


	2. Mending

We emerge from your room – I can't call it your cell any longer – and I call for Anthy.

"Y...yes, Mistress?", she asks terrified while watching the two of us together and trying not to stare at my bruises. So the shopping trip didn't take long enough. I am sorry for her and as always it surprises me that I even acknowledge her existence. It is not how I was raised.

"I think the two of us need something to eat now."

"A...at once, Mistress. Anthy shall have your meal ready at once."

It isn't an empty phrase. Seconds later Anthy sends plates full of quality food over to the eating table. It's complicated for a single elf to put something like this together. I know because I asked her in the beginning, when I still found the simple meals she normally makes lacking. I wonder if she begins to cook feasts when she's scared and nervous. I almost feel bad for her, but the meal is far too good for me to honestly mean it.

You wolf down your first portion and everything else Anthy throws at you. For the first time since I became your warden you really eat. It is beautiful to watch, in all it's unrefined ugliness. It looks like you live again and I am strangely grateful for it.

I use the next days to get you reacquainted with life and a hint of happiness. I'm pretty sure you don't see in me what I see in you, but we fulfill each others needs and that is enough for me. Everything else I lock away deep within my heart. I'll not have to hold back anymore soon. You grow stronger by the hour, rejuvenated by my promise to be your enemy forever.

When Ginny bursts through the door after a single knock I suddenly realize I lost track of time. I didn't wait for her to show up like a stood up lover. She looks at us, sitting at the table and playing chess, a game neither of us cares all that much about, and immediately draws her wand. I grin and show my hands to signal there is no wand in the wrong hands. You look at her, not sure how to face your friend. Not sure if you are still friends. Her eyes wander between the two of us.

"Mrs. L... Miss Black.", she nods at me and I nod back, "Hermione?"

You raise a hand in a lame gesture that betrays your insecurity. "Hey Ginny."

She rushes over and hugs you, something that surprises both of us, I see it in your face. If I wouldn't look the same way I'd laugh now.

"God, Hermione, I haven't seen you in three years."

I look to the side and ignore the fact that this time frame coincides with the death of your husband. I realize I misunderstood her. She wasn't hating both of us, she was only hating me. She watched you and saw a thing that all but killed one of her last remaining friends.

"Anthy!", I whisper and the house elf responds at once, even quieter than me.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I think it's an occasion for cake."

"At once Mistress."

She pops away. During the last weeks she must have become accustomed to the screams and sounds the two of us make. She doesn't even flinch anymore when she looks at us.

We eat cake, the two of you talk. I get ignored, but that's okay. There is no place for me in the Order. No matter what the Weasley girl told the ministry people, she is still with the Order and we all know it.

Things become a bit tense when Ginny ponders if maybe you can be transferred into her custody now and I interject with a sweet voice that I know will grate on her nerves.

"Sorry dear, but she was given to me for safekeeping. Whatever would poor little me do without her being here?"

Ginny throws me a death glare that makes me giggle, but you intervene before it gets out of hand. You touch her arm, gently, not showing what kind of violence you are still very capable of.

"It's okay, Ginny. It has to be that way."

It has to be that way, I repeat in my head. Because we would both snap. And the wizarding world doesn't need the two of us on the war path again. I smile into my tea cup in an attempt to hide my satisfaction. You will stay with me.

Ginny leaves and we return to our game. You are distracted but try to make me tired. I see you practicing magic whenever you think I'm asleep. It is really astonishing what mere willpower is able to do. Sure, your spells are weak and pathetic, but you do them without any aid. You couldn't make enough light to read a book, but you are able to force light into existence without your wand. Sadly you never managed to recreated the Cruciatus Curse. I guess your hatred subsided to a point were it wasn't enough anymore.

Ginny visits more often now. She tests the waters, assesses your mental state. She keeps ignoring me and I keep ignoring her. I make experiments on my own. I take back my wand, but you never attempt to steal it. I begin talking to you about traveling the world. We are both intelligent enough to know there is no future for either of us here. When I mention Australia your reaction is strange but I set it aside for later.

One day Ginny comes by with an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries. She brings your wand with her and you get it back in a specially enchanted case that will only open if you act in pure self defense. The Unspeakable keys it to your mind and leaves again without uttering a single unnecessary word. I mention the weather in South America and Ginny doesn't even bat an eye at it. For some reason she feels compelled to wonder why the ministry only said that I need to watch you all the time but nothing about the location. We nod at each other in silent agreement and go back to ignoring each other.

A few days later we pack a few things and I apparate us away. We do a bit of sightseeing in the Andes, visit the rainforest and then turn north until we reach Alaska. We hop through eastern Russia, visit China and Japan and go on over the small islands that litter the Pacific Ocean. I never knew how big the world really was. It didn't matter.

We arrive in Sydney and I notice the different vibe I get from you. We find a cozy room, even if it is terribly uncomfortable compared to a magical lodging. I am still spoiled, I guess, even after everything I've been through. But if we want to keep a low profile we have to stay mainly in the Muggle world and you like being back here. You try to hide it from me, uncertain how I will react, but I can still see it in your eyes.

Night falls and we retreat to our bed. We are both exhausted after a long day and we simply fall on our sheets and close our eyes. You wait, give me time to reach deep sleep, then you stand up and sneak over to my clothes. A few seconds later you find my wand and step over to the door.

"Why now?", my voice reaches you and holds you back. You turn around. Your eyes show guilt and your stance is insecure. You hesitate but then you choose to answer me.

"Before we went to look for the Horcruxes I modified the memories of my parents. They are here, in Sydney. I... want to tell them that the war is over."

"Try to be back by morning. I'm supposed to watch you 24/7.", I say and turn to the other side. Only after you left I realize that your muggle expressions crept into my own polished language. With a tiny smile I close my eyes for real. I'm not worried about you using my wand while attempting to do complicated mind alteration. You are similar enough to me that you should have no problems using it.

True enough to your word you are back besides me when I wake up. I didn't count on you inviting me over to your parents home, however. Sometimes I think you are still touched in the head. Then I think you may feel about me the same way as I feel about you. Then I reprimand myself and remind me that that's just impossible. There can only ever be a cease-fire between us. Then I start over.

Your parents know who I am. I see it the second I step into the room and they tense up a bit. Before you took their memories of all things magical they read about me. But soon we pass the awkward silences and engage in careful conversation. Then I notice the glances the two of them throw us and I believe they guess that there is more between us then what we tell them. Your mothers eyes become overly curious when you mention having therapy sessions that helped you cope with the aftereffects of the war. Therapy sessions. I like how your mind works sometimes. I think the smirk I couldn't completely suppress was a dead give away for a second.

When we leave late in the evening your parents make us promise to visit again soon. It is as close to a blessing as we can get without stating facts. Even I get a short hug from your mother and I still don't know how to take that. I _am _known for torturing Muggles and certain Muggleborns after all. I don't deserve to be hugged by her.

"Say...", you begin once we are back in our room. I look at you with raised eyebrows.

"What would you think about... moving here. Starting a new live."

I shrug.

"Why not? As long as I can keep my... obligations to watch you."

"I don't see that becoming a problem. Do you?", you ask, inching closer on the bed. I shake my head. You suddenly lean into me and kiss me. A real kiss. Soft and tender, so unlike anything we shared before. I stiffen for a second before melting because I know then and there that you feel for me like I feel for you and my heart jumps with joy. I thought you would hate me till the end of days but here you are kissing me and giving me forgiveness. I should be suspicious and careful, instead I can't help myself and cry. I never cry. I am Bellatix Black, for crying out loud, not some shaken first year lost in the Forbidden Forest.

You whisper _Petrificus Totalus_ in my ear and I can feel the restraint. It is weak, like all of your spells and I could break out of it with simple muscle power if I tried, but I don't want to. Either way I am still petrified because you kissed me. I have to make a crack about you being part basilisk once I am able to think coherently again. Then you grab me and I feel the pain. Forget about thinking. I won't be able to for a few hours.

When morning comes I am still awake, lying on the sheets in a daze while you snuggle against me. I look at you sleeping like a lazy cat and I smile. Will the world ever know how lucky it was to be spared a Dark Lady after the fall of the last Dark Lord? A few turns taken differently in Hogwarts and it could have happened even before the war had truly broken out. Without the Boy Who Lived and your husband as friends, would you have taken a route last traveled by my previous love? We will never know. I loved a Dark Lord once, I think I like this better. You stir besides me and look at me with a devious smile.

"What are you thinking about?"

I smile back with the most evil Cheshire Cat smile I can muster, but it doesn't throw you off and you keep staring, so I surrender.

"I love you, that's what."

You laugh for the first time ever in my presence and I instantly know I want to hear that sound for the rest of my live.

* * *

Thank you for reading. To be honest I really wanted to keep who is who ambiguous until the end and let every reader decide for him-/herself, but while writing I realized that it would have gotten in the way of the story to an extent that would have felt strained and fake. I hope you enjoyed the final outcome.


	3. Present

I am sitting on the edge of my bed while pondering the day that's coming to an end. It's my birthday. The first birthday I celebrated in ages – the last time was before Ron died. It was a small party. To be honest it can't even be called a party.

My parents came by and we ate some cake. Anthy made it, so it was a really good cake, but still, no party. I don't feel it anymore, the need to get loud and rowdy. Did I ever? Maybe I did, for a while, when Ron and Harry were still alive and we thought the world was a place were the good guys won and the bad guys could only scream in frustration at their plans being foiled. Harry killed a bloody big basilisk, for gods sake. Before the war. Before Dumbledore died. Before... _they _died.

Ginny came by, too. She didn't actually enter the house, because, well, _she_ is here as well and will likely be until one of us finally dies. It should bother me as well. We should have killed each other when we had the chance. But I think the last one went by unused in that cave, a lifetime ago. I don't blame Ginny. My... nemesis? jailer? lover? partner? killed a significant part of her family. A mother and two of her brothers, and that kind of thing tends to stand between people.

I know what manner of grudge that produces. The only reason I don't think like that anymore is that I hated her so much my hate just burned out when I had too much time to think. When I was forced to consider what I had done, would have done and had ultimately become. A mirror image of her, just with another agenda. We killed pure-bloods for being pure-bloods and I cannot hide from that knowledge because I gave the orders myself. They weren't for us and therefore had to be against us. The problem with being intelligent is that there's a limit as to how much hypocrisy you can hide from yourself.

I thought I was doing the right thing, that the end justified the means, except it didn't. We didn't even win to establish our own tyranny of open-mindedness. Every time I look in the mirror I can't shake the feeling that all the deaths we suffered were for nothing. I hated her for that, but I can't, not anymore. Instead I hate what I have become and I take that out on her. Not that she doesn't deserve it. And to be fair, she _does _seem to get off on it. It's still mind boggling, even after almost a year.

To try and rip myself away from my thoughts I take a look over my presents. Pictures, mostly, to make up for lost time. A few books.

Bella got me a pair of bracers and a wooden box. The bracers are made of walnut, just like her wand. I guess she gave them to me in hopes they would help with my wandless spells. They do. Marginally. Wizard bone and flesh is not the best conductor there is, as our ancestors discovered long ago. Maybe I should become a shepherd. Hermione Jean Granger going Merlin. Right. The big staffs of old are not the most impressive tools when looked at from a modern perspective. Intimidating, sure, but unimpressive nonetheless. And I wouldn't want to make the Australian wizarding community nervous. They know exactly who we are.

It astonishes me how much I cling to my magic. I really should be able to just let it go due to being Muggleborn , but I can't. Magic has become a core element of my existence and I feel crippled while my wand is sealed in a box that always hangs from my belt. At first it was a matter of vengeance. If I tried hard enough I would be able to break free, finally kill Bella (in her sleep, if need be) and rid the world of its last great evil. As if that was even possible.

But then, when _she_ freed _me_ and just... gave herself over to me, it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted something like that duel in the caves. The heroine emerging, finally victorious after great ordeals. But she just stood there and did _nothing_. She looked so tired and sad in that moment it made me stop for a moment. I shouldn't have. It was the moment I realized that we didn't fight to win anymore, but to annihilate the opposing party and decide who was right by looking at the last one standing.

It all came crashing down. The anger at Bella taking back the name Black, as if that could take any of her sins away, the rage because Aurors protected her from me. Hatred because Aurors protected bloody Bellatrix Lestrange, as if she was worth protecting, as if she _needed_ protecting. Everything just... imploded. She could have destroyed me in that moment by simple standing there, but she didn't. She fought me. She gave me an enemy when I needed one.

And day after day, week after week, she whittled down my anger and hatred, an ounce at a time. I still didn't trust her. But when we came to Australia I learned another thing about my warden. She is scary attentive when she wants to be. She knew there was _something _in Australia. It wasn't by chance she brought us here. She faked being asleep but then didn't stop me from taking her wand. She just asked me to come back.

It was that moment of unconditional trust with no questions asked, that finally broke me. I went into hiding for a few hours to cry my eyes out before I attempted to undo the mind altering magic on my parents. I came back. And I brought _her _to meet my parents. Fortunately it was a lot less awkward than it could have been. I think I have more luck than I deserve.

The moment she told me she loves me still lingers in my heart. It wasn't completely unexpected, but still came as a surprise. Yes, we had done _stuff_, but you can do a lot without ever falling in love. Me being able to just accept that scared me, but I knew that if I wanted to have a chance to figure this out I couldn't push her away. Bella is Bella. She would have closed all doors for good otherwise, I think. Especially now, after her assets have been taken as reparation and she lives off of little more than pride. That woman could go down Diagon Alley covered in nothing but honey with her head held high and no one daring to look twice at her. Okay, that's not pride but fear. I could probably do the same thing. Bad picture, anyway. I should behave myself.

We live together for a year now. A little help from old friends allowed us to by an old farm building. I write under a pen name for some magazines, and Bella decided to start a bar here on the outskirts of the desert. The last chance to go on a binge before the outback. Somehow barkeeper was never among all the things I thought I might become. Yet it bothers me less then I would have thought when I help her out. Our clientele is mainly comprised of shady characters, but between Bella and myself there are no problems. Maybe I secretly wish we had a vicious bar fight at least once so I could legitimately fear for my live.

But our customers know about the enchanted wand box I carry with me. It really helps to keep the peace. We have become something like neutral ground and we even get the adventurous offspring of well situated families who want to feel like they do something forbidden without actually breaking the law.

My eyes fall on another box, the box Bella gave me today as a gift. I have never seen her so nervous. Not when she came to me unarmed, not when she confessed her love.

The box is a question. I know Bella trusts me, how else could she give herself over to me so easily, and in giving me this box she asks whether I trust her as well or not. She never explained what to do with the contents of the box. She didn't have to. And I have the same question she does: Do I trust her?

We are both exiles from home, where everyone not on our side is afraid one of us might start another war. We are both killers. We have both been insane at some point. I am afraid that she is only the easy way out for me. Someone who by now knows me better than anyone else and that is more or less bound to me. I'm reasonably sure she really loves me, despite me having a considerable part in killing Voldemort and most people she might have liked.

Bella is surprisingly honest with her feelings, especially now that we have truly lived together for some time. If I am to fully accept her it has to be real and not just me going along. She understands that as well as I do. So she gave me the box.

Surely the ministry wouldn't be adamant about only her being allowed to guard me. Seeing how I went for a year in public without maiming anyone and how my wand is still secure and out of my reach. So, going different paths is a real option by now.

I try to imagine it. Me, packing my things and walking out of the door, while Bella stays behind and watches me go. No doubt her face would be pure stone, not showing any emotion. She hates to be vulnerable, with one notable exception. That exception being me. I would loose that, most likely forever. Never again hear her snicker at a morbid joke of one of our guests. Never hear her scream again. Never again admire the fact that wizards and witches are far more resistant to the effects of age then muggles.

If I choose this route we will become strangers, a disaster waiting to happen, the both of us.

I bite into my fist to stifle a sob. No, I won't loose her because I am afraid of myself. She looked past everything I am and I have done, I owe her to do the same. And what I see there is someone I want to be around. We are hardly the same people we were during the war. I shouldn't judge her as such. I mustn't continue to live in the past or it will destroy us both. If I ever tell my grandchildren about the whole thing they will think I have gone senile.

Taking a deep breath I stand up and go downstairs with the box in my hands.

When I enter the taproom I see her sitting at the bar with a glass of firewhiskey before her. The bottle is not far away. I stop dead.

"How many have you had already?", I ask with a disapproving voice. She looks up with unnaturally round eyes.

"None. I wanted to have steady hands in case you...", she shrugs and I hide a smile. I can't really fault her for being afraid how I would choose. In one year I never once made clear where we stand. How, if I didn't know myself?

"That's good then." I place the box in front of her. It contains a scalpel and a tiny bottle of a healing potion that, going by the color, consists mostly of dittany. "Would you do the honors?"

The smile she offers me is worth all the hours of self-doubt. I sit down in front of her and place my arm on the counter. A quick shaking of my head stops her from taking her wand. She grabs the scalpel and looks at me.

"Are you sure you don't want to be stupefied?"

"Yes. I need to be aware."

"At least let me numb the arm", she pleads. I shake my head again. Bella sighs unhappy and begins to cut carefully. She traces the raw writing on my arm and leaves bleeding really is no way to be tender with a blade and she needs to cut more then when she tortured me. I try to stay quiet, but there is only so much pain I can suppress completely. She throws me worried glances but doesn't let it get to her. Who would have thought that being jaded by war can be a good thing sometimes?

After she is done Bella kisses away one of my tears and applies the potion. Half on my wounds, the other half for me to drink. My arm begins to crawl like a colony of ants, but I don't let it show. Instead I bring myself to smile.

"I love you, you know?"

"I know.", she replies after five seconds of silence and looks to the side to hide her face. It makes me laugh.

"Of course you knew. It's why you have been on edge the whole evening."

"Well, I couldn't know whether you would know", she mumbles. "We should go to bed. It was a long day and your arm needs rest."

"You know...", I begin later, when we lie in dark, "I will probably want kids one day."

She chuckles. "Oh dear. That must be like being adopted by Cruella and Morgana. I'm sure child services will be delighted to help us."

I can't help myself but giggle at the thought. Also, I notice she has been catching up on rather insignificant muggle fiction.

"Then maybe we should let a few years pass by. We are at the other side of the world, you know?"

She turns to look directly at me and her eyes are tiny reflections in the night.

"We raised a lot of attention, in case you have forgotten. But just maybe we will be boring in a few years."

"Even if not. With you at my side I would stand up to the world if it came at us.", I promise her. She kisses me.

"Let's hope that won't be necessary. I've had enough of war."

"Meh... if push comes to shove we can always employ Muggle science to have a child ourselves."

"Maybe. But you really should sleep now. Your arm needs rest."

I smile while closing my eyes. And for the first time in ages Rons dead eyes don't stare at me from the darkness.

* * *

So I lied and the story wasn't as complete as I thought it was. It is now. I kind of like the setting of the ongoing guerilla war between the Order and the Death Eaters, so _maybe _I will do something with it at some point in the future. But don't hold your breath.


End file.
